


What I Hide

by sarangx



Series: Why Am I Alone? [2]
Category: Day6 (Band)
Genre: 4+1, Alternate Universe - College/University, Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, Day6 is a Family, Fluff, Gen, Hurt/Comfort, all of them are a lil broken, but thats ok
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-02-26
Updated: 2018-02-26
Packaged: 2019-03-21 02:28:42
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,220
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13731210
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sarangx/pseuds/sarangx
Summary: 4 times jae kept his depression to himself and the 1 time it inevitably came to light.





	What I Hide

**Author's Note:**

> warnings:  
> —swearing  
> —depression  
> —heavy themes  
> —implied/referenced self-harm  
> —implied/referenced past abuse
> 
>  
> 
> continue on only if you feel comfortable. ♡

Bright eyes, gleaming grins, contagious laughter, and a blinding aura is what’s commonly associated with Park Jaehyung. He’s a loud, bubbly guy whose personality is hard not to like. With a handsome face and a love for guitar and singing, anyone would say he was the most genuine person they ever had the pleasure of meeting.

But even the sun hides for awhile. Its rays give out at some point, and the world darkens as it disappears beyond the horizon. Its warmth and steady presence give way to the moon.

 

♩❉♩❉♩❉♩❉♩❉♩❉

**[1]**

It was cold. The frost in the air bit at his skin and threatened to tear gashes, its attacks only warranting erratic shivers. The temperature seemed to be dropping even further as each retched second passed, the cold twisting into a type of burning ice that flowed along his skin like lava. Goosebumps gave a visual of its path, though it soon became indistinguishable when the specks filled the entire expanse of his exposed flesh.

But there wasn’t a source. Only a landscape of pure black greeted him, its darkness so daunting it heightened the chill. He couldn’t see anything, couldn’t smell anything; could only feel the cold creeping across his body. Were his eyes closed? Where was he? Why was it so cold? Was he dead? All of these questions were ones he couldn’t answer.

Then a figure appeared: a petite lady with full brown locks that fell past her shoulders. Her delicate hands were clasped in front of her as she stood stiffly, skin almost grey. Her eyes were blank as they stared into his own, unnerving him to the point that he tried to look away. He found that he couldn’t.

”Jaehyung,” she spoke, her pale lips moving as she formed the words. His name hung heavy in the air. She didn’t blink.

”Wh-what?” His voice shook.

”Jaehyung,” she repeated, “you have failed me—your own mother.”

The chill had become unbearable, the tendrils of ice slipping through his skin and sinking into the marrow of his bones. It froze his bloodstream, corrupted his veins and his brain, till the only thing he could register was the frigid demons that refused to leave him alone.

The last thing he heard was a whisper of “ _failure_.”

 

Drenched in sweat, Jaehyung jolted awake. The rumpled sheets flew off of his body easily, sinking onto the floor where most of it already lay. His heart beat unevenly in his chest, its pattern far too sporadic to be normal. His lungs ached with each gulp of air he was granted, gasps slipping past his cracked lips and leaving him breathless. He ran a hand through his disheveled hair, wincing at the feeling of slight moisture due to his excessive sweating.

Fortunately, the quiet whirring of the overhead fan calmed down the last bit of his nerves. He tilted his head up to gather his bearings, pushing the nightmare to the back of his mind as per routine. He refused to close his eyes—he’d only see _her_. So instead, after shoving his phone that kept glaring 3:47 at him, he padded across the cramped room. The carpet underneath his feet was stiff and the walk to the other side was only two strides. Curse college expenses.

Jaehyung leaned down to pick up his acoustic guitar. Scratches marred its figure, but he had had it for over half of his life so that was to be expected. He held it with utmost care, almost cradling it as he made his way back to his bed. After seeing the damp sheets, he turned to the ratty couch that had too many stains to count. He settled there anyway.

His hands still shook a bit, but he paid them no mind and concentrated on thumbing the strings for tuning. Other than an off-key G, he was good to go.

The music came easily after that. He didn’t see the woman anymore when he closed his eyes. Instead, he saw four bright faces whose voices matched with the melodies flowing off of his strings. A small, soft smile graced his lips at the image. It stayed in place even through the hours he played and through the pain growing in his fingertips. When he opened his eyes, the glimmering light of dawn shone through the window.

And although the RA, a petite vocal performance major named Yoo Kihyun, had lectured him for a solid half hour on playing instruments past curfew, his heart still felt a little lighter.

 

♩❉♩❉♩❉♩❉♩❉♩❉

**[2]**

“Yah, Jae-hyung, you coming to Jinyoungie’s performance this Sunday?”

Jaehyung gave a small shake of his head as he swallowed his sip of cola. “Nah, I’m planning on mega studying for Prof Jung’s Lit class.”

”Wah, really?” Wonpil looked at him incredulously, doe eyes wide. “I can’t believe you’re not cramming again, hyung! I’m so proud of you!”

”Seriously, Jae, don’t get Wonpillie’s hopes up,” Brian spoke up from the other side of the table, plopping a fry in his mouth. “What are you really doing this weekend? Video games?”

Jaehyung forced out a laugh, urging the grin on his face to stay. He ignored the way his heart dropped. “I’ll have you know I have an extra class on Saturday, so I only have Sunday to myself and not with you scoundrels.” He threw a fry at Brian to emphasize—not to distract from the way his own eyes had lost their light—his point. “So I plan on relaxing.”

”So. . .video games.”

”Yes! Okay, fine, I admit it!” _You have yet to admit anything_ , he heard a voice murmur. His smile didn’t falter.

”You’re ridiculous, hyung,” Wonpil said with a pout. “You’re really not going to see Jinyoung perform a song he’s been practicing since his freshman year?”

_What a terrible friend you are._

Before Jaehyung could stumble out a response that would erase the younger’s disappointed stare, the noon lunch bell sounded, announcing the end of lunch. He gave an apologetic smile to Brian and Wonpil as he picked up his lunch tray. While he was walking toward the trash, and even after he had emptied it, the voice kept whispering in his ears words of presumed truth and stigma.

 

One, two, three, four scars. He ran his finger over them, the white lines glaring back at him. The hair had never grown back, and the wounds had been so deep that even after healing, their shape remained. It was a constant reminder.

He gave a small sigh before letting his sleeve cver his shoulder. He reached for his phone, and after grabbing it from the counter, he looked through it before pressing a contact name and putting the device up to his ear.

”Hi, Jae!”

”Hey, noona,” he greeted politely. “Thought I should probably wish you a happy birthday.”

”’Probably’? Wow, truly nothing has changed.” Despite her words, Jihye laughed. “I’m planning on spending it with Yangho in Hongdae. Would you do me the honor of serenading me in front of my fiancé as well as a considerably large audience?”

Jae snorted, rolling his eyes. “Please, you know I’d beat up Yangho hyung with my guitar before I’d even start.”

”Do you still not like him even though we’re engaged?”

”I don’t think there will ever be a time I will like him, noona,” he stated, leaning against the wall. “You _are_  my big sister, after all.”

”You and I both know he reminds you of dad, Jaehyung-ah.” Her voice had suddenly gone serious. “I know you’ve been trying to push that away but—“

”I need to go now, noona. Have fun with hyung and have a good birthday. Love you.”

The call ended with the press of his thumb. He slid down the wall with a heavy sigh, allowing his head to fall in his hands. He couldn’t bring it in himself to be surprised that he’d be spending his Sunday like this and not with his friends. His demons could keep him company.

The scars sat unbothered.

 

♩❉♩❉♩❉♩❉♩❉♩❉

 

**[3]**

It was ridiculous, really. It had stopped years ago, but Jaehyung was still hung up about it. He knew he should move on; having the same mentality from then wasn’t healthy. He knew realistically that he was safe. Logically, the dorm of a college campus was the safest place a twenty-something boy could be. But his emotions and traumas didn’t follow logic. They hovered over him and lingered, tendrils sneaking through common sense and filling Jae’s mind with far-fetched anxiety instead. The worst part was knowing it was happening but _not being able to do anything about it._

He just wanted it to _stop._ All of the thoughts, all of the feelings, all of the memories—he wanted them to be gone. He had hoped earning a scholarship to an arts college could solve his problems, but he was left with an aching chest and scars marring his figure like his old guitar. Going to college didn’t stop the pain that bloomed in his chest whenever he thought of his family, and it sure as hell didn’t make the scars disappear.

But at least it was something; he could spend time learning more about doing what he loved. And despite the relentless pain that constantly followed him, he found that music had a way with his feelings that he couldn’t explain. He was fine without the reasoning, though. It was all he could ever ask for.

But then his dad found out about his career choice shortly after his sister’s birthday had passed.

It was a matter of time in all honesty. Jaehyung knew he couldn’t keep it from his father for long, but he still tried. And it had worked for three years— but a part of him said it was because his dad didn’t care enough about his son. He tried not to look into it.

In any case, it appeared his time was up. His phone buzzed on a Wednesday after a particularly hard class and a sleepless night.

Without looking at the contact ID, he answered with a questioning hum.

”Jihye said you’re majoring in music theory.”

There was no greeting, no “how are you doing?”, no segue into the topic. It was only a cold, heavy statement.

Jae’s blood ran cold. He suddenly felt lightheaded, and the scar at the back of his neck seemed to throb in time with his pounding heartbeat.

”Ah, dad! I— yes, I’m a music theory major.”

”I thought we agreed that you’d major in biochemistry, Jaehyung,” his dad’s voice had hardened, “did you happen to forget that conversation?”

The blonde froze. His eyes widened as he thought back to that evening: broken glass, puffy eyes, aching ribs...

”I- yes, I remember.” He forced himself to believe his voice didn’t shake.

”Then explain to me why your sister was the one to tell me of your career choice.”

Jaehyung’s breath quickened, his head swirling as his dad’s tone changed to the one he was so familiar with. It was so dark, so vicious—it seemed to drip with venom, all of his anger directed at _him_. He wanted to hide.

”It’s because of your own selfish desires, isn’t it? You just couldn’t control yourself, could you? The thought of actually making your family proud seems to sicken you.” There was a cruel scoff. “I’m not sure why I even considered you’d do what I told you. You’ve always been a disappointment to me. Really, this isn’t much of a surprise.”

”I—“ Jaehyung bit his lip to stifle an arising sob, “—I’m sorry.”

”I doubt it,” his dad snarled. “This is the last time I’m calling you, Jaehyung. You don’t deserve the family name, much less a father.”

And then the call ended.

Jae stayed in place for five minutes, unmoving. His eyes were wide, pupils blown. His skin had gone pale, and his body was trembling greatly. Tears silently rolled down his face. Slowly, he dropped to the floor in shock. He pulled his knees up to his chest, phone slipping from his grasp and onto the tile. It beeped and buzzed but he ignored it.

_Truly, you are a failure, Park Jaehyung._

♩❉♩❉♩❉♩❉♩❉♩❉

**[4]**

_You’ve always been a disappointment to me._

His voice echoed in Jae’s head as he tried to sleep. It didn’t matter that he had taken three insomnia pills, because that stupid voice kept his body up and his eyes open.

It was awful—completely, utterly dreadful in every possible way and Jaehyung could not handle it. His scars itched and his heart ached and his eyes were raw. His throat burned from stifling sobs and his hands couldn’t stop shaking and his legs would wobble every time he’d try and stand up from his bed. His phone had been turned off and really, that was a horrible idea, but he was drowning in his demons’ whisperings and he couldn’t gather enough air to make a rational decision.

His room sat bathed in darkness, blinds drawn and lights off. He didn’t know what time it was; he didn’t know how long he had been wallowing in his self-pity. Classes passed and he didn’t blink an eye. His stomach grumbled but he couldn’t bring himself to muster up enough strength to make some instant ramyeon. He was a shell of who he was and he hated it.

He checked his phone at one point and found it to be Friday. The light of his lock screen scorched his tired eyes, but a small smile pulled on his lips when he saw the image: Wonpil smiling innocently at the camera as Sungjin was giving Dowoon a piggy-back ride in the background while Jae and Brian bickered in the corner of the screen as a blur.

Those were happy times. They didn’t need to worry about him. He was fine. He had to be, because if he wasn’t. . .

He blinked back tears and gave a dry laugh that hurt his throat.

Well, if he wasn’t fine, he may just die.

♩❉♩❉♩❉♩❉♩❉♩❉

**[+1]**

Jae managed to force himself to get up on Sunday. His limbs ached and his muscles were sore, but he knew he had to if he could make it anywhere in life. Plus, his friends would come by his dorm sooner or later—he’d rather meet them first than having them see him in a trembling ball.

So he gathered himself the best he could and he idly drowned himself in a big yellow sweater and some jeans. His eye bags were especially prominent, and his eyes were rimmed red. He gave a smile to himself in the mirror anyway, mussing his hair slightly before shoving it into a snapback. He grabbed his keys and his phone and made his way to the band room, disregarding his missed classes completely.

When he reached the room, he steeled himself and was met with concerned gazes and worried questions.

”Jae-hyung? What happened?” Wonpil asked, doe eyes watching him carefully. “We haven’t seen you since Tuesday.”

“Yeah, what the hell, man?” Brian grumbled, eyes narrowed. Jae flinched, the tone reminding him of his father. Brian’s face fell slightly and his eyes softened. “Hey, I’m sorry. We were just really worried.”

Dowoon sat quietly with Sungjin, his brown eyes wide with concern despite the neutral expression on his face. Sungjin was frowning a bit.

Jae felt awful.

”Sorry, guys,” he said with a smile. It felt plastic, and the way his lips pulled up was almost mechanical. His eyes remained dark and somber. “I guess I got carried away with video games.”

”Jaehyung,” Sungjin spoke up, his voice low. He was clearly trying to urge Jae to tell the truth—they all knew he was lying—but insead, it sent Jae into a state of panic.

”I-I’m sorry. Really, I’m sorry. It was dumb of me, and really I should have just come here and ignored everything,” he started rambling, the silicon smile crumbling immediately at simply the word that left Sungjin’s mouth. “Sorry, I’m sorry. Really, really, I am.” When the brunette tried to approach him, Jae immediately recoiled. “I’m sorry! Don’t hit me!”

His exclamation was met with a stunned silence. He had reflexively put up his arms to block his face and his closed his eyes, but when nothing came, he opened them. He suddenly remembered where he was and that he wasn’t at home, and so he slowly dropped his defensive stance and bit his lip harshly at his slip-up.

”Hyung? Did something happen?” Dowoon asked quietly from the corner of the room, eyes shining with worry. “You can tell us.”

A few beats of silence passed.

”I- I just—“ Jae heaved a sigh, burying his face in his hands. “My dad isn’t a nice guy,” he murmured, exhausted smile on his face that seemed to only exist to assure himself. “He called me and said I was a disappointment which,” a wry laugh, “isn’t anything new.”

”Jae, did- did your dad. . .did he—“

”Yes, he used to hit me,” the eldest cut Sungjin off, that same damned defeated smile still planted on his face. “I’ve been a bit distant since the call, so I’m sorry.”

”Jae! Really!” Sungjin suddenly barked out incredulously. “You’re apologizing to us? Right now? When you were physically abused as a kid and still mentally abused as an adult?”

Jae was lost for words, mouth opening and closing in shock. It was his turn for his eyes to widen.

”You should’ve come to us,” Wonpil spoke up softly, looking down at his feet and- _were those tears_? “You didn’t have to suffer alone, hyung.”

”Hey, hey, please don’t cry, Wonpil-ah—“

He was cut off by a tall bundle of brown hair crashing into his side. He looked down to see Dowoon clutching onto him. His body was shaking and there were low sobs ripping from his throat.

”Jae-hyungie, it must have hurt, right? It must have been hard, right?” Dowoon’s voice was gravely when he asked, muffled by Jae’s sweater and pulling the sleeve to reveal the older’s scarred shoulder. “You must have been suffering, right? You must have wa-wanted to. . .”

”Hey, stop that, Dowoonie,” Jae said firmly, but his voice broke slightly and his eyes started tearing up. “Hyung’s fine. See? I’m right here.”

The others had crowded around the pair. Brian’s fingers delicately danced across the scars along Jae’s shoulders, and Wonpil was holding onto Jae’s hand with a metal grip as Sungjin ran his hand through the other guitarist’s hair. They were quiet, save for the soft whimpers of their youngest and the even softer reassurances from the eldest.

”You’ve worked hard, hyung,” Brian muttered, voice thick with emotion. “And— and you should be proud you made it here. With- with us.”

Everyone was crying by that point, their faces splotchy and forms indistinguishable from one another as they tangled together in the center of the band room floor. Scars lined Dowoon’s wrists; lined Brian’s arms; lined Wonpil’s thighs; lined Sungjin’s calves. But they’d be okay. They were safe now—with each other. They were the family they never got to have. And for them, that was more than enough. They would heal. It would just take time and a bit of support, both of which they had an abundance of.


End file.
